


Where Everybody Knows Your Name

by darnedchild



Series: Molly Hooper Appreciation Week 2016 [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Day 1: A Day in the Life, F/M, Is that really a reference to the Dresden Files?, John is an amused witness, Molly Hooper Appreciation Week, Sherlock's idea of flirting, Sherlolly - Freeform, pre-sherlolly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 16:44:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7900225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darnedchild/pseuds/darnedchild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short fic for Molly Hooper Appreciation Week - Day One (A Day in the Life) (I would call this a friendship fic with a hint of awkward pre-Sherlolly.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Everybody Knows Your Name

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Lilsherlockian1975 for the quick beta.

It had been ages since Molly had bothered to leave Barts for her lunch hour. She used to do it all the time; pop out for a bite and a stroll in the (mostly) fresh London air; but her normal schedule had been thrown out of whack after the fake Moriarty broadcast and things had only just returned to normal the month before.

Molly had heard several of the techs in X-Ray raving about the fish and chips at charming pub just a few blocks from the hospital, and she’d made a mental note to give the place a try at some point. Now—with an entire free hour at her disposal—seemed like the perfect opportunity.

The place was packed when she walked in. People were milling about the door, waiting for a table or a spot at the bar to free up. One man was picking up a large take-away order from a cheerfully frazzled hostess. 

Molly waffled about whether or not she should bother to enquire as to the wait when someone called her name. She was a little surprised to see John Watson push his way through the crowd toward her.

“I thought it was you.” He smiled as he reached her side. “Bit of a madhouse, isn’t it?”

“Just a bit,” Molly agreed with a smile, happy to see a familiar face. “Are you waiting to be seated?”

“Nah. We’ve got a table back there.” He nodded in the direction of the far side of the pub where she spotted Sherlock impatiently drumming his fingers on a tabletop. “You?”

She looked around one more time and shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’ve heard good things about this place, but I’ve only got so long for lunch and the queue doesn’t seem to be getting any shorter. Maybe I’ll get something to take back to Barts.”

John hesitated for a moment, then gestured for Molly to follow him. “No need for that. Come sit with us, there’s plenty of room.”

Molly pulled her bag tighter toward her chest so she could weave through the maze of other customers in the small space left in his wake. “That’s very nice of you, but only if you don’t think Sherlock will mind?”

“I don’t particularly care if he minds or not,” John tossed over his shoulder. “We’ve been here for ages, and you know how he gets. I’m bored out of my mind.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes as they reached the table, but his fingers stilled on the table. “I was beginning to think you’d lost your way back from the loo, John, but I see you merely stopped to pick up a stray. Anyone else you want to drag over here?” He briefly turned his attention to Molly. “On a case, do be quiet.”

Both Molly and John stared at him; one in resigned bemusement and the other with narrowed-eyed annoyance. Sherlock froze for moment, then paled. His eyes briefly fluttered shut before opening and settling his gaze on Molly. “What I meant to say was hello, Molly. Won’t you join us?”

John pulled out an empty chair for her before settling into his own. “And that’s as good as you’re probably going to get, I’m afraid. Sorry.”

“It’s better than I was expecting, honestly,” she kept her voice low in deference of Sherlock’s request. “Have you had the fish and chips, are they any good?”

The Consulting Detective grimaced and went back to observing the rest of the room, effectively ignoring his two companions.

John snorted. “I wouldn’t know. His highness over there refuses to eat anything, and I’m getting tired of eating alone.” He tapped his half-full pint glass with an index finger. “At least this place has a decent ale to nurse while we sit here.” Sherlock’s glass, she noted, hadn’t been touched.

Molly’s face fell. She really had been looking forward to lunch. She nibbled at her lower lip for a moment. “Do you think it would be all right if I went ahead and got something?”

“Yes, fine, let’s all get the fish and chips!” Sherlock huffed, clearly annoyed. “Anything to stop John’s complaining. Go on, off to the bar to order three of the specials.” 

“You’re eating?” John seemed slightly confused by the idea.

Sherlock leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, almost defensively. “That is what one generally does with a meal.”

She and John shared a look, then he shrugged. He paused long enough to ask if she wanted anything to drink, then went off to order lunch for the three of them.

Since Sherlock had already mentioned they were on a case, Molly didn’t bother trying to start any small talk while John was gone. She fiddled with the cuff of her cardigan and looked around the pub, trying to imagine what they were looking for. They’d obviously been there for a bit if John’s comment about nursing a pint was any indication, so possibly a stakeout of some kind?

It only took her a moment to realize that Sherlock’s chosen seat gave him a nearly unobstructed view of the bar, and most of the dining area. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that she must have partially blocked his line of sight to the door and the small waiting area next to it when she sat down, but he hadn’t mentioned it. Yet. Still, Molly didn’t want to be the reason they missed something important to the case.

She carefully scooted her chair farther away from John’s to improve Sherlock’s view. The move brought her closer to Sherlock as a result, and her foot briefly bumped into his before she pulled it back.

Sherlock snapped his head around to look at her, a slight crease appearing at his brow as if he were attempting to puzzle through something. Then he glanced back toward the room at large and his expression cleared. “Ah. Thank you.”

Molly felt herself warm from the inside at softly spoken acknowledgment. “Don’t mention it.” 

She ducked her head to keep him from seeing the little smile that flitted across her lips, and dug through her bag to find the book she’d been reading for the last week. It took a bit to find where she’d left off, she kept stopping to reread a paragraph or two here and there. At one point her skin prickled with the odd feeling that someone was watching her, but when she looked up no one was looking their way and Sherlock was watching a group of business men being seated at a table nearby.

By the time John returned—carefully balancing three baskets of fish and chips and a glass of water for Molly—she was absorbed in the love story between a Scottish Laird and his formerly reluctant bride.

The mouthwatering aroma of beer battered fish made her stomach rumble, and she looked up with a grateful smile. “Oh, God, that smells good. I’m famished. Thanks, John.”

He pointedly looked back and forth between her and Sherlock, and Molly realized it must have looked odd to find them suddenly sitting much closer together. He must have seen something in Sherlock’s expression though, because he bit back whatever he’d been about to say and simply smirked as he reached for one of his chips.

They ate in silence for several minutes. Well, Molly and John ate. Sherlock mostly ignored his food after the first chip.

“Anything yet?” John subtly tilted his glass toward the bar before taking a drink.

Sherlock shook his head with a frown. “Nothing.” He slumped back in his chair with a pout on his lips. “It won’t be today.”

“Are you sure?” John asked around a mouthful of fish.

Sherlock glared in response.

“Right, stupid question.” The other man didn’t look the least bit apologetic, and Molly didn’t even try to hide her amused grin. 

“Is it all right to ask what’s going on, then?” she asked, genuinely curious as to what nefarious plots could possibly be going on in place that served possibly the best fish and chips she’d ever had. 

John dropped the chip he’d been about to eat back into his basket and leaned his elbows on the table, clearly gearing up to tell her the tale. “Sherlock knows the owner, McAnally, from way back. You know how Sherlock doesn’t like to take what he calls the Dull cases normally, but he agreed to take this one without an argument. Which really makes me want to know how those two met, and what McAnally’s got on him-“

“Yes, thank you for your input but I’ll take it from here,” Sherlock interrupted, looking slightly flustered. He took a moment to compose his thoughts, even going so far as to eat several bites of his lunch. “Mac doesn’t have anything on me, he’s simply an acquaintance of my parents. I’ve known him since I was a boy, and I’ve nothing else pressing at the moment.”

John shot her a look that seemed to indicate he thought Sherlock’s explanation was utter BS.

“Very mature, John,” Sherlock drawled without even glancing in the other man’s direction. “As I was saying, the pub has been doing steady business but one day a week, a seemingly random day, the lunch till is over by as much as one hundred pounds.”

Molly nodded. “Someone deliberately shortchanging customers?”

“So it would seem at first glance.” She waited for the follow up that would explain exactly why she was wrong in his typical ‘how can you not see the obvious’ way, but it didn’t come. 

“Later in the week, the lunch till will be short the exact same amount,” John picked up the story. “My theory is money laundering.”

“Of course it’s money laundering. And I said I would explain the case to Molly, did I not?” Sherlock snapped with a huff. Molly took a sip of her water to hide her sympathetic wince. That was exactly the sort of reaction she’d been expecting a moment ago.

John just shook his head and finished his pint.

“I’ve examined the work schedules from all of the dates in question and there is no one common denominator.” Sherlock frowned. “I’ve considered partners, obviously, but there are too many variables and not enough data to narrow the culprits down as of yet.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll find him. Or her. Or them.” Molly realized she was going on far too long and looked about for something to take the attention off her babbling. Her glance fell to her watch and she gasped. “Oh, goodness, I’m going to be late! I’ve got to run, lovely to see you both.”

She shoved her book back into her bag and dug out her wallet. “How much do I owe you, John?”

“Uh, your portion comes to-“ John came to an abrupt stop with a hiss at the same time Molly heard a thump from under the table. There was a quick exchange of glares between the two men, then John gave her a rather forced smile. “Nothing. It’s on me.”

Molly hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok, then. Thank you.” She put her wallet away and stood. Sherlock jumped up at the same time, and John followed suit. Molly noted how much easier it was to get through the still crowded waiting area with both men clearing a path for her. 

Once they were outside, she adjusted her bag against her side and turned to say goodbye. Before she could get a word out Sherlock spoke up. “Same time tomorrow, then?”

She looked to John for clarification, but he seemed just as confused as she was. “Pardon?”

“Lunch. Tomorrow.” Sherlock fussed with his coat collar until it stood up just so. He took in both of his companions expressions and sighed. “Two men sitting in silence begins to look conspicuous after several days in a row, but a party of three sharing a meal and engaging in quiet conversation appears friendly and easily overlooked.”

John’s expression had gone suspiciously blank, which Molly found a little disconcerting. She turned her attention back to Sherlock. “You want me to meet you for lunch tomorrow?” It seemed just out of character enough that she wanted clarification.

Sherlock frowned as if he couldn’t understand why they were still discussing it. “John and I, yes.”

“If it means I actually get to eat lunch, I’m all for it,” John pipped up with a mischievous grin.

“Stop whinging. It’s not as if you can’t afford to skip a few meals here or there.” Sherlock ignored John’s indignant “Oi” as they walked away.

Molly watched them leave without so much as a goodbye, bickering with each other like siblings, and smiled. There were worse ways to spend a lunch hour after all.


End file.
